Hermione's Special Assignment
by scottishbelle
Summary: Hermione is left behind at Hogwarts her senior year while Harry and Ron leave to destroy Horcruxes.  As Head Girl Hermione has her hands full... But can she handle Draco Malfoy alone?  And will she survive Dumbledore's special assignment?
1. Chapter 1

Hermione was frustrated. She had an entire list of tasks waiting for her as Head Girl, tutoring, organizing their next meeting, and later she must speak with some terrified first years. But she couldn't do anything until she finished this damn potions essay, and just couldn't find the exact ingredients and measurements found in a Creatrix Potion, even though she was almost hidden behind piles of books in the library.

With a huff of frustration, Hermione closed the last book, her last hope of finding the missing ingredient, and leaned back in her chair to plan her next move.

She could look into the more obscure books, texts where her information would be less and less likely to exist. That could take hours. Her to-do list wiggled in her pocket, charmed to do so when it was time to move on to the next item on the checklist. She didn't have hours.

Her only other option was far from preferable, and even in a secret part of her heart made her just a bit nervous, though she had been careful to never show her fear to others. She doubted it would work, but it was her only choice to even have a chance to get her other tasks today.

She would go ask Snape.

Decision made, Hermione packed her bag and left the library. She spent her walk practicing what she would say, hoping to make this visit as smooth as possible, and wasn't paying adequate attention to where she was walking. Which explains her complete and utter surprise when she rounded a corner to Snape's door and ran smack into a warm, hard chest wrapped in a green and silver sweater.

The collision caused her books stuffed with scrolls slipped from her hands and fall to the ground. Quickly she dropped to her knees to gather what had spread in every direction, and picked up one scroll only to realize it was stuck under a pair of muddy shoes. Hermione looked up into clear grey eyes and deepening scowl of Draco Malfoy. He insolently raised his eyebrow and slowly lifted his foot, leaving traces of mud all over her work.

Hermione hissed, "What is wrong with you?" but Draco had already whirled about and started to move down the hall without a second glance in her direction. His scowl was all that stayed, rearranging itself on Hermione's face as she seethed with hatred towards her old enemy. It seemed that even though Draco had been made Head Boy this year, opposite herself, his attitude will apparently never change, and she will always be a Mudblood under his feet, beneath his notice. She flicked a bit of the goop off her paper and grimaced.

The irony was not lost on her.

Hermione raised her hand to knock on Snape's office, having gathered her things back together without any help, when a raised voice within stopped her. It was muffled through the thickness of the door, but there was clearly an argument going on.

The voice clearly wasn't Snape's. It lilted, even in anger, revealing Irish origins. "...You must! Even now, he is out there, waiting for you. And if you don't manage this within the year..." his voice quietened, and Hermione cast a temporary amplifying spell, her curiosity piqued.

"...I don't think I have to tell you how serious this is."

"You don't." Snape's drawling tones. "But I cannot leave now. Not. An. Option." She could hear his clipped consonants that always become more pronounced in anger.

Silence. Hermione could almost feel the tension permeating through the wood. After a moment she realized with a grip of fright that Snape's guest must be about to leave, and she scurried into a nearby alcove, just barely stepping into the shadows as she heard the office door creak open.

She pressed her back into the cold stone wall, having no desire to run into a stranger who had the nerve to demand things from Snape. The stranger whooshed by, and Hermione could only see dark robes and a flash of orange hair before the man turned the corner and disappeared, footsteps ringing in the hall.

Hermione waited several minutes before she exited the shadows to knock briskly on Professor Snape's door. He opened the door and looked down his crooked nose at her. He was, as usual, entirely self-composed.

Following him in, she said, "I'm sorry to bother you, Professor Snape. I need some help in finding the ingredients found in Creatrix Potion."

Snape gave her a sharp look. "Why?" he muttered, black eyes glittering at her.

"My potions essay." Hermione swallowed. "I thought to compare the preparation of the basic Confusing Concoction with a Creatrix Draught. You see, one uses plant-derived ingredients to induce chaos, and the Creatrix-"

Snape waved his hand, interrupting her. "Of course," he said. "You'll want to check out Sylvia's Stringent Solutions and Potions." He wrote down the title on a scrape of parchment.

Hermione reached to take it from him but Snape held it a moment. "I trust, Miss Granger, that you will be discreet in the use of this book. It will be found in the Restricted Section. If you are not, I will make your life a living hell."

"Of course," Hermione said, answers within her grasp. "Discreet as always."

Hermione took the parchment scrap and rapidly left the oppressive office once more. The very air in that room was still thick enough to clog Hermione's throat - though she wasn't sure how much of that could be attributed to her imagination. Between the cloying air and Snape's thinly veiled irritation, she wanted to spend as little time in there as possible.

* * *

Preview Chapter 2:

Draco didn't refuse the assignment, though not out of pity for his father.

It was the image of his mother that changed his mind. His mother home, alone, waiting for the return of her wretched husband. Draco sneered, imagining the crystal clear tears she shed as she yelled at the servants, but he couldn't cause her more grief.

Lucius had caused enough grief to last a lifetime.

* * *

AUTHORS NOTE:

Please read and review, the more reviews the quicker I'll post Chapter 2!


	2. Chapter 2

Draco stomped through the halls, trailing mud. He knew all it would take was a simple spell to clean his boots, but at the moment he was glad to be trailing dirt through the halls for someone else to clean up.

Delicious irony, him cleaning up his father's mess, others cleaning up his. Almost as delicious as stomping on Hermione's schoolwork after she stupidly ran into him in the hall.

He allowed himself a brief grin at her shock. No matter how much he tortured that girl, she still seemed surprised every time. As though she expected him to reform.

Unlikely.

His feet carried him deep into the dungeon, where he twisted the third candelabra set deep in the stone wall and entered the Slytherin Common Room. The room was made of grey stone, and thick green and gold tapestries covered the walls. The only light this late at night came from the fireplace, giving the room a dark and gloomy feel. Draco breathed deeply and began to relax for the first time all day.

A few students were still up playing cards around the fire. No one of consequence. Draco breathed a sigh of relief and sank into one of the thick leather armchairs that faced directly into the fire.

He really needed some time to think.

"So glad you've decided to show yourself," came a whisper in his ear. Sultry and hot, a practiced sexual purr.

Pansy Parkinson's hand crept across his lapel and snaked down his chest. "You almost had me thinking you had found…other entertainment."

Damn. He had totally forgotten to find other entertainment.

"Stop," Draco said, plucking her ice-cold hand off his chest. "I need to be alone."

Pansy stepped carefully around the armchair and knelt before him. "I know what you need," Pansy softly said, "Just come with me."

Her small pink mouth was tempting. He knew just what she could do with it. He almost took her hand before he stopped himself.

"We're not together anymore," he reminded her.

"So you say." Pansy tilted her head. "But I know you, Draco. You'll come back to me. So why pretend?" Her hand was softly touching his.

"I don't have the energy to deal with this right now."

"Because of Lucius?" Pansy asked innocently.

Draco immediately grabbed her hand and squeezed. He felt her knuckles grind together in his grip and made sure he saw the flicker of pain in her eyes before he asked, "What do you know about Lucius?"

"He's in Azkaban." Draco squeezed harder until she continued in a low voice, "The Death Eaters have decided he no longer belongs there."

"How the fuck do you know that?" Draco asked, dropping her hand.

"Do you honestly think I wouldn't find out? The Death Eaters know about our…relationship." She nursed her bruised knuckles but still managed to raise one haughty eyebrow in his direction.

"Bloody fuck."

Draco heard a cough from the other side of the room. He had to get away from Pansy before he lost his temper in front of the other Slytherin students.

He angled his broad shoulders to shield Pansy from view, and traced her jaw with a fingertip. He then let his hand slide down until it was wrapped around her throat. Pansy's smug smile dropped away when his fingers squeezed.

Finally Draco saw real fear in her eyes. "You breathe a word of this to anyone, and you'll stop breathing," he told her.

He let go and Pansy coughed. She reached out and caught his sleeve before he could leave. In a husky voice she told him, "I'm not afraid of you."

Draco just stared back, waiting for her to let go.

"You'll need me before this is over," Pansy warned, then turned and flounced up to the dormitories.

One of the younger card-playing students was shooting looks back and forth between Pansy's retreating form and Draco. Draco held his gaze, and then made an offensive gesture with his two right fingers and his tongue.

The student's eyes widened and he quickly looked down.

No longer as relaxed as he had hoped in the Common Room, Draco went to the Head Student Office. It was the one place in Hogwarts could ensure himself some privacy. He was _supposed_ to be sharing the Office with Granger, Dumbledore's predictable choice for Head Girl, but she always favored the library.

He dropped into the couch and expelled a large breath. Pansy knew about the plan - that complicated matters. But she didn't seem to know much. Draco would have tread carefully around her.

As if helping his father escape from Azkaban wasn't dangerous enough. Now he had to manage that impossible task while avoiding Pansy's snooping nose.

Exasperated, Draco stomped to the cabinet and pulled out an unopened bottle of firewhiskey.

* * *

Hermione had hardly seen Harry and Ron all week, and she was worried they would blame her for it.

She rushed through the darkened halls of Hogwarts, heading for the Divination tower. Her to-do list in her pocket began to wiggle, and she knew she was already late.

She didn't know why Harry had asked to meet in such a secret place, but it would be the perfect opportunity to tell him about what she had overheard in Snape's office… and who she had seen, though briefly.

Hermione finally puffed her way to the top of the tower. Over the summer she had gotten out of shape for Hogwarts myriad stairs and halls and corridors. She was still breathing heavily when she entered the Divination Room and saw Harry sitting with Ron at one of the tables.

Her heart gave a brief flutter when she saw Ron, but she squashed the feeling mercilessly. That boat had sailed long ago, as her mother was always fond of saying. Besides, he was still dating Lavender.

She sat down between her two best friends and immediately got down to business.

"Listen, I was going to Snape's office a couple days ago, and I overheard a suspicious conversation with a strange man. He had Weasley-red hair, spoke in an Irish brogue, and told Snape he had to complete some 'task' within the year."

Ron was looking at her with utter fear in his eyes, and Hermione patted him reassuringly. "We don't even know what this task is yet, Ron, no need to assume trouble. But I think we need to keep an eye on Snape, don't you? Ron? Harry?"

Hermione realized Ron wasn't moving, just staring at her with a terrified expression, and she pulled out her wand and poked him. "Have you been cursed with the _petrificus totalus_? I know just the counter-curse -"

"No!" Harry interrupted, taking a hold of Hermione's wand-holding hand. "We just have some news to tell you."

Ron swallowed. "That's right," he whispered, "some news."

Hermione looked back and forth cautiously. "News more important than Snape's new project? We all know how the last one turned out."

"I think you're right, Hermione," Harry said. "Snape could be doing something very dangerous, and one of us has to keep a close eye on him."

"It really would be better if we all kept an eye out. Thee heads are better than one."

"We're leaving." Ron sputtered out, and then closed his mouth tightly.

"Oh? Where are we going?"

"What Ron means to say," Harry said in a calming voice he might have used with a fussy owl, "Is that Ron and I are leaving Hogwarts this year. Dumbledore has given us an urgent assignment, and we need to do it to destroy Voldemort."

"Just…you and Ron?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Harry said while Ron nodded vigorously, not taking his wide eyes off her.

Hermione thought a moment, and then burst into laughter. She laughed heartily, but neither Ron nor Harry joined in. Her laugh faded, and real fear crept into her stomach.

Perhaps they weren't joking.

"But…what about your studies? You have to get prepare for your N.E.W.T.S. You have to get your training for when you graduate Hogwarts."

"Ron and I have made our decision," Harry told her firmly. "We have to do this. We need to defeat Voldemort."

"And I can't come with you because - ?" Hermione asked.

She waited for an answer, but Harry and Ron just looked at each other guiltily.

"I'm you're best friend. I'm smarter than both of you," Hermione pointed out, using her finger to emphasize her points. "Clearly, it would be in both of your best interests if I came along."

"Your…your N.E.W.T.S.," Ron said finally. "We can't ask you to leave Hogwarts when your education is more important to you than anything."

"My education!" Hermione repeated in a half shout. She wasn't going to beg them to bring her. They had been close for years, and she was sure Harry and Ron knew her better than that. They were the only people in her life who should know better than that. "If that is what you boys have decided is the most important to me, than who am I to argue." Hermione stood and spoke in a forcibly calm voice. "But I don't know if I'll be able to forgive you for this."

Hermione left the room before she burst with anger towards her two former best friends.

A/N

Reviews can make an author's day :)


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione woke up the next morning determined to find Harry and Ron and apologize. She had simmered in anger most of the night, tossing and turning in her bed, unable to think of a logical reason behind their betrayal. Still, it had taken her until morning - after her temper had cooled - when she realized there was likely something her friends weren't telling her. The pieces of the puzzle just weren't lining up right.

She dressed quickly and rushed to the Gryffindor common room. The only person there was Neville Longbottom, looking pale and upset. She started towards the entrance to the boy's dormitory when Neville's voice called after her.

She turned, and Neville was holding out an envelope in a shaking hand. "Harry asked me to give you this," he told her.

"When did you talk to Harry?" Hermione muttered, not waiting for an answer.

She tore open the letter as Neville slumped back into an armchair.

As she read it, she felt her heart drop into her stomach.

Ron and Harry had already left Hogwarts.

It happened sometime between last night and this morning. She had no idea where they had gone. Ron and Harry left before she had discovered the real reason behind their decision.

A small voice told Hermione they _could _have talked last night, if Hermione had not lost her temper and stormed off.

For the first time in a long time, Hermione felt a bit lost, a bit like she felt in her first year of Hogwarts. Friendless.

Well, she had survived then, so she would survive now. Hermione retrieved her scrolls and quills and then left for the library, hoping to lose herself in good, honest schoolwork.

In the library, she retrieved the books she needed, but after an hour had passed she realized she had read the same paragraph six times. Her brain wasn't working like it should. It was the atmosphere, she decided. Even the library reminded her of Harry and Ron, and her mind couldn't focus on anything but worrying over them.

Determined to get at least some work done before lunch, she piled all of her books together and left, pausing momentarily before heading to the Head Common Room. Normally she avoided the room like the plague, not wanting to be near Malfoy. But with his derelict habits, she doubted he would be up and about this early on a Saturday morning.

Hermione walked into the Common Room and dropped her books down on the carved wooden desk. A strangled snort came from the area of the couch and there was the hard thump of a glass bottle hitting the thick rug.

She almost apologized for waking up whoever was sleeping there before she realized there was only one other person who had access to the Head Common Room. Her mouth clapped shut. To satisfy her own simmering anger, she thumped her last book on the desktop with extra vehemence. Just let Draco try and pick a fight this morning.

Two blue eyes peered over the top of the couch and glared over at Hermione, sleep still creasing their corners.

"Fuck, Granger. Keep it down, would you?" He spoke in a low growl and cradled his head in his hands.

"You look wretched." It gave Hermione a fleeting moment of satisfaction.

Draco eyed her through the spaces between his fingers. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione sniffed and tossed her nose up. "Homework." She sat down facing away from him and opened her books.

* * *

Draco sneered at the brown mass of hair that now faced him. Why the fuck was she here?

He moved to stand and was almost overwhelmed by a wave of dizziness. An urge to vomit. Still, Draco slowly lifted himself to his feet. Granger was here. Besides, he didn't drink often. When he did he knew how to handle himself.

He just had to drag himself back to his room, where he could make his usual hang over remedy. And a steaming cup of tea.

His mind drifted back to Granger, her ridiculous billowing hair invading what was supposed to be his one private solace in Hogwarts. A deep resentment burrowed deeper into his chest.

Granger had a nasty habit of ruining everything.

Then suddenly his thick and foggy mind sparked with a remnant of memory from the last time he had visited Snape's office. He had heard something which it had seemed improbable at the time, but…

Perhaps he might take a stab at it.

"Potter and Weasley finally leave Hogwarts?" he casually tossed out into the silent room.

Granger whirled to face him, shock written clearly in her expression before she covered it with her temper. "What?"

Bingo.

Draco shrugged, enjoying making her upset. Served her right. Hasn't she even _felt_ a hangover before? "It's not like it's a big secret. Everyone knows. Wait," he raised a finger in her direction, "You didn't?" Draco moved ever closer to the door. Towards his hangover cure.

"I know about it," she said carefully. He was so close to breaking her, and he could never resist temptation.

"Have you run crying to Dumbledore yet, after being so easily left behind?" he asked, injecting sincerity into his voice. Ah, a good morning taunt session always left a sweet taste in his mouth.

"Well," Hermione took the offensive. "At least I don't rely continue to rely on a father who's still in Azkaban for attacking children."

Ouch. Draco almost frowned as the memory of his newest project assaulted his mind. He had managed to forget completely about the debacle concerning his father since he had woken up.

"Go sit on a wand, Granger," Draco muttered darkly and stalked away.

At the doorway he stopped and shot back over his shoulder, "Maybe you should talk to Dumbledore about why you're still here, alone and friendless."

* * *

Hermione didn't stop until she was standing in front of Dumbledore's office door. Her mind had worked itself into a fine rage during her walk here, and she was now brimming with feelings of anger, injustice, indignation, and betrayal. They all crashed over her body until her fingers shook.

She knocked, and burst in as soon as she heard his voice from the other side of the door.

"What the hell is going on?"

Dumbledore looked up with calm blue eyes. It wasn't often - it wasn't _ever_ - that Hermione Granger cursed, much less to the headmaster.

"Miss Granger. Please sit down."

Hermione clenched her teeth as she fought the desire to do what Dumbledore told her to do. Her voice came out as a hiss. "Why am I staying behind when I should, even at this very moment, be fighting against You-Know-Who with my two best friends?"

There was much, much more that Hermione wanted to say to Dumbledore, especially as he sat, calm as ever, staring back at her with irritatingly pensive blue eyes. But when Dumbledore raised his hand, Hermione bit her tongue. She may have been mad enough to slay a dragon, but she was still Hermione Granger. And Hermione Granger was a sensible, reasonable creature who does _not_ yell (too much) at the headmaster without giving him a chance to explain himself.

Dumbledore didn't say anything until Hermione huffed and sat in the proffered leather chair. "Very good. Now, for your question." He leaned back in his chair. "I have a very important job for you this year, Hermione."

She narrowed her eyes. Just what was he scheming now?

Dumbledore seemed to wait for a response, but after a moment of silence, he spoke again. "This job, as you might be wondering, is just as important as Harry and Ron's quest. And I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid I cannot give it to anyone else. You are the _only_ person capable to do this job."

Hermione worked it through her mind. "So you are saying...That I am staying behind for a different reason altogether?" Her anger suddenly deflated and Hermione felt only sadness filling her chest. "Why couldn't Harry and Ron tell me this?"

"They don't know about it. In fact, I imagine they are as puzzled as you are. Do not think I wouldn't have you out with those two in an instant if I could. I would. I know they need you. I'm afraid I'm being quite selfish in keeping you behind."

He let out a deep sigh, and for the first time Hermione saw signs of exhaustion and consternation in the wrinkles of his face. "I could not ask this of anybody else. And I'm afraid that in asking it of you, you are going to hate me. If not now, then with time. You see, it's not just your intelligence, but your courage, your loyalty, and your sensibility that led me to choose you."

What did Dumbledore need from Hermione that was more important than Harry and Ron's mission?

At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and without waiting for a response, Malfoy walked in looking freshly washed, pressed, and arrogant. When he saw Hermione sitting there, he smirked, knowing why she had come to Dumbledore's office. Hermione glared back, refusing to acknowledge that he had gotten to her earlier. Even though, using hardly a full sentence, he had managed to throw out all of the reason and rational logic Hermione had prided herself on commanding in any situation.

That fact only made her glare harder.

He turned back to the headmaster. "I didn't realize you had company. I'll come back."

Draco turned to leave when he heard Dumbledore's quiet voice. "Stay." He gestured to the other chair. "Sit."

Hermione jumped up. "That's all right, I was just leaving - "

"You sit too, Miss Granger." Dumbledore managed to focus on both of them until they both obediently sat, Hermione openly confused and Draco revealing nothing.

Until Dumbledore's next words, which decidedly shocked them both.

"Your job, Miss Granger, is to be kidnapped by Mr. Malfoy."


	4. Chapter 4

What a disaster.

Dumbledore had explained his plan to them, both Hermione and Draco together. Hermione had refused immediately. The plan was not a terrible one, most of the parts of it seemed quite sound. If anything, the plan should be a giant help to those resisting Voldemort's control. There was just one giant flaw.

She would have to trust Draco Malfoy. Son of the man who had tried to kill her years before. If he betrayed her during this mission, she would die.

And why wouldn't he betray her? Didn't he already have the mark of a Death Eater? Everyone knew about it.

Dumbledore had been eloquent in reassuring Hermione that Draco could be trusted, but she just couldn't make herself do it. All she could think was that she had been left behind by Harry and Ron only so she could engage in a dangerous plan that hinged on the whim of Draco.

As Hermione rounded the bend, she caught a last glimpse of two green cloaks - unmistakably Slytherin clothes - running down the hall.

Away from her room.

The portrait to her Head Student room was slightly ajar, and a sharp fear gripped her. Had those students been snooping in her things? Perhaps copying - or worse, stealing - her homework essays? She approached the woman in the portrait and demanded to know who had been in her rooms.

The lady in the portrait was a silly half-woman, half-fish who spent her time dipping her tail in the water and gazing about painted clouds, looked confused when Granger first brought up the intruders.

"Oh those adorable young children? They wanted to see your room. They had your password, so I let them in." She laughed a little, and her eyes returned to a girlish glazed state as she gazed about herself in wonder.

Hermione suppressed a scowl. "Useless," she muttered to herself as she stepped into her room -

And entered a nightmare.

Her stuff was strewn everywhere. There were bras and underclothes strewn across the bed, quills and torn parchment scattered about the floor. And mixed in with everything was various flavors of Bertie Bott's Jelly Beansand half-melted Chocolate Frogs.

She walked around her room, not quite knowing where to start. Her trunks were all thrown open, her dresser toppled. Everything that she owned had been touched, messed with, ripped or stained or tossed about.

And suddenly she realized, it was oddly silent.

Where were Crookshanks' plaintive meows?

The half-melted chocolates - did Crookshanks eat any of it? Fearing the worst, Hermione began to search frantically for her cat, throwing things left and right, looking under piles of robes and behind stacks of books.

She dropped to her knees and peered under the bed, where indeed, Crookshanks was panting heavily. There was chocolate and blood smeared across the cat's mouth.

Cold fear gripped Hermione, but she willed herself to stay calm. It took some time to coax Crookshanks to come out from under the bed.

She was shocked at the full terror of her cat's torture. Across Crookshanks' back, someone had burned a fresh Dark Mark into the pink skin. It was black and horrible and the edges of it bled like a fresh tattoo, and Hermione feared it was permanent.

There were tears running heedless down her face when Hermione gingerly picked up the cat and held her close to her chest, regardless of the blood staining her sweater. She walked as quickly as she could all the way to the infirmary without upsetting her pet. Madame Hooch, through shocked eyes and pitying glances, promised Hermione that she would take care of her cat as well as she could.

As Hermione watched her cat get bandaged up and hovered about anxiously, all that she could think about was the message, left in her room, left imprinted on her cat.

No where was safe from Voldemort's creeping touch.

Hermione had one very clear option.

When she left finally Crookshanks to Madam Pomfrey's care, her tears were dry and replaced by an icy sense of purpose. The attack on her room, her cat, only reminded her of what was at stake if she didn't fight Voldemort with everything she could.

A man like that was pure evil.

* * *

Draco had no choice but to agree to Dumbledore's plan. Dumbledore knew that Draco walked a fine line between acting as an innocent student of Hogwarts and a puppet of Voldemort.

Up until this point Draco had been able to convince him that he was no Death Eater. Of course, the whole planned hinged on Draco wanting to be an Death Eater.

Thankfully, Granger had refused it out of hand, citing "trust" as the issue. Draco didn't try to convince her. He may be obligated to agree, but that didn't mean he wanted yet another complication in his life.

Dumbledore's plan had been sound, if completely insane. Draco imagined, if Granger had agreed, they might be able to pull it off. He'd have Granger back by the Christmas Holidays, and then he'd be able to proceed to deal with his father as planned.

There was no way he was going to let any task with Granger interfere with that.

The door to the Head Common Room, where Draco had been trying to relax, slammed open.

"Good, you're here."

It was Granger, damn the woman. She came into the room like a wild creature. Her hair was disheveled, more than usual, and her usually prim clothes were in complete disarray.

"God, you smell like a pig trough," Draco pinched his nose at the bridge.

Granger came into the room, advancing on Draco with her wand out. Her gaze was calm, staring him down as usual, despite her appearance of lunacy.

As she got closer Draco noticed a new smell tickling his nostrils. "Fuck, Granger, is that blood?" His eyes noticed a something like a stain on the front of her black sweater.

Her wand poked his forehead and forced his head back against the couch.

He sneered into her face. "That's disgusting. Did Crookshanks finally die on you? … Literally?"

Draco might have noticed a twitch on Granger's face, but she otherwise didn't move a muscle.

"You're getting creepy." Draco said, eyebrow raised.

"I am going to help Dumbledore on this mission," she said steadily. "And that means I am placing myself in your vain, arrogant, pasty, incompetent hands."

"They are not pasty-"

"I have agreed to do it. And you better not cross me, Draco Malfoy. I'm smarter than you, I'm faster than you, and I've mastered more curses and counter curses than you even know exist. Don't. Cross. Me."

"You said that twice."

"Fuck you Draco."

"Get in line," Draco replied. A moment of silence stretched by, then Draco sighed. "All right. You are big and bad and scary, and if I cross you I will receive a terrible lineup of spells and hexes and Jelly-Legs curses."

It was childish, but it seemed to be enough for Granger. She lowered her wand but remained looming over him.

"What are you going to do, anyway," Draco couldn't resist as he resettled himself casually on the couch. "Slap me again?"

Faster than Draco was ready for, Granger's tiny hand whipped out and slammed into his cheek. So hard little stars popped into his vision.

And just like the last time she slapped him, he felt a surge of bloodlust pump through his body.

No one was watching this time. In one smooth move, he reached up to grab her and twist her wrist around and back. He wrapped his other arm around her neck as she gasped in pain and fell to her knees, pivoted to face the far wall. There was no one to stop him, no one to keep him in check.

"Do you think you can go around slapping people?" His breath was harsh in her ear, he knew it, but his blood was pumping and he couldn't stop letting words out. "Do you think I'm still the same boy you slapped in fourth year, who didn't retaliate? Do you think I wouldn't grow up, I wouldn't learn a few tricks of my own after you pulled a stunt like that?" He released her neck to snatch her other arm, which was flailing about, trying to scratch his face. He held her arm against her body.

And suddenly realized that in pinning her arm thus, he had his own forearm pressing intimately against Granger's breasts. Very round, firm breasts. He wasn't the only one who had grown up.

He abruptly let her go. Killing Granger wasn't going to help his cause at this point.

Granger whipped out her wand but Draco's wand was already pointed at her when she turned about.

"Don't ever slap me again," he warned. Draco found it was suddenly difficult keeping his eyes on Granger's face. So Draco did the only thing he could do.

He left.


End file.
